


Wait and Bleed

by Stach3z



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, I guess???, I'm very new to this tagging system I have no idea what I'm doing pls send help, M/M, Major Character Injury, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stach3z/pseuds/Stach3z
Summary: The man he once knew is gone, replaced by a hollow creature filled with revenge, and a thirst for blood. Claude isn’t sure if he will be able to help the Prince, but he knew deep down he could at least try.He just didn’t expect to have to nearly die to do it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, my first fanfiction in over eight years, haha. I’m extremely rusty, so please excuse any sort of errors. This game has more or less taken over my life at this point, and I NEEDED to get something out there, cuz it’s been killing me inside. I love Claude Fire Emblem to pieces, and am an advocate for ‘Everybody Loves Claude’, and pretty much ship him with anyone at this point. But I felt like this idea fits best with Dimitri/Claude, so here we are, plus some Claude/Golden Deer softness I'm so fond of.
> 
> Also quick disclaimer: I’m still in the process of finishing my first run of the Golden Deer route (Animal Crossing kinda took over), so I'm a bit sketchy on a lot of the details. I’m kinda winging it, but I have read up on a lot of stuff and what happens, so I have an idea, but it’s not perfect for sure. I apologize for that! Let’s just say… I’m taking creative liberties lmao
> 
> Heavily inspired by “How to Tame Your Dimitri - A Step by Step Guide by Claude von Riegan” written by Grump_Cupcake on here! I hope that’s ok, and if you feel uncomfortable with it, I will immediately take this down! I highly recommend it if you want some soft DimiClaude to pass the time during these hard times in the world lmao I just love Claude being held by overprotective Dimitri; it’s very good. I probably won’t do it much justice, but hell, I’m gonna try my best. I have other ideas I want to explore, but right now, this is the only thing that I feel brave enough to think of posting online lmaoo

This was a massacre.

Claude’s eyes swept the battlefield, eyes hard as emeralds as he watched both enemies and companions alike fall beneath swords, arrows, and fire. Failnaught felt heavy in his hands, although he continued to fire arrows towards the sea of red Empire troops beneath him. He knew he couldn’t hesitate this deep into the battle, even when he felt a certain numbness breaching his lungs, leaving him breathless and cold. If only he had anticipated how  _ eager _ the Kingdom was to fight against the Empire. Throughout the war plaguing Fodlan, the Kingdom had been mostly silent, grief striking its residents senseless in the wake of their prince’s execution years ago.

A pang went through him as he thought of Dimitri.

When they had first been at Garreg Mach five years ago, Claude had found the crown prince charming, nearly fascinating to watch from afar. Dimitri hadn’t been what Claude thought most nobles were like when he’d first come to Fodlan (and interacting with Lorenz on a daily basis at the Academy had really warped his perception). The prince was kind, if somewhat awkward, and very easy to embarrass, something Claude had taken great delight in; it had always been worth it to see Dimitri turn red in the face when Claude teased him. The kindness Dimitri had shown to everyone he met had always been enough to earn him the trust of many, including the Blue Lions he led; and Claude had observed how  _ loyal  _ they had been. Dimitri had also - admittedly - been quite attractive, and it was no wonder that he constantly had a line of girls and boys alike, who would swoon at the chance to be near the crown prince. There’d been more times than Claude could keep track of, where he had seen many admirers run in the opposite direction when Dimitri approached, and the look of confusion on Dimitri’s face never failed to pull a laugh out of Claude. 

But as kind as Dimitri was, he had also been rather naive, quick to trust others and follow without much question; quite the opposite of Claude himself, who had learned from a young age to keep a wall around himself. 

An undercurrent of something else had also piqued Claude’s interest. From the way that Felix had treated Dimitri, to how the navy haired teen would hiss out the word ‘Boar Prince’ when referring to the crown prince. It had been somewhat disconcerting to witness. Claude had always had the impression that anyone under the Kingdom’s rule - especially one who was considered a friend - was meant to bow their knee at the Kingdom’s will; Felix had shown that this was not entirely true. Although, perhaps, the two had a history that Claude was not meant to know, and despite how curious he was about it all, he had never tried too hard to dig too deep into it. It was sometimes better to let things like that be solved without Claude’s interference. 

Dimitri never once seemed to speak out about Felix's insubordination. But rather, the prince seemed to accept it, and although Claude had seen the pained look in his eyes at being berated so heatedly by the navy haired teen, Dimitri had always simply bowed his head, accepting it. Claude, although having warned himself not to get involved, couldn't help the curl of anger in his gut at seeing the treatment. Dimitri had certainly deserved better from a friend, and although Claude didn’t know much about friendship, he knew that Felix’s actions were not entirely right. 

So he kept a close eye from afar, promising himself that if Felix were to take drastic measures, Claude would intervene. Though, nothing had ever - thankfully - escalated to that point, so Claude had simply taken to teasing the prince at whatever chance he could. He’d even, admittedly, taken to following Dimitri around in the shadows.

Sometimes, when Claude had been in his room late at night reading, or planning out his classroom’s mission for the month, he had heard the prince sneak away. 

Despite Dimitri’s best efforts, Claude had come to know what the sound of a quieted footstep against wood sounded like. The first time he had heard the sound, the Riegan heir had felt his pulse quicken, and his hand had reached for the dagger he kept hidden at his side, but when the footsteps retreated, he'd relaxed. 

Curious as to who had been breaking curfew (and Claude  _ sincerely _ hoped it wasn’t Sylvain again), he walked to his door, and peeked out. Down the hall, he caught the site of a familiar blue cloak, and frowned at the sight. The crown prince had always been too much of a stickler for following rules, so it was rather unheard of to think of Dimitri breaking the rules set in place at Garreg Mach. Although it had been late, Claude’s curiosity got the better of him, and he'd snuck out to follow the prince.

He had followed behind the prince’s figure through the grounds at Garreg Mach, and had watched Dimitri stop a few times. It never seemed to be somewhere important to stop, but Claude had seen the prince silently look around dazedly, then jerk himself out of whatever reverie he’d been in, and then rush off again to wherever he was planning to go. Eventually, the prince had stopped at the cathedral, and Claude had silently slipped in behind the prince. He’d quickly stopped to hide behind a pew to watch the prince approach the altar at the front.

Dimitri was silent, but from the moonlight coming in through the windows, Claude had seen the deep purple bags under the prince’s eyes. Dimitri was pale, his hair horribly unkempt, and his eyes had been unfocused while he looked around. From where Claude was, he had seen how Dimitri’s mouth moved, and had even heard the almost frantic whispers Dimitri hissed out. It hadn’t been loud enough for Claude to hear exactly  _ what  _ the prince was talking about, but Claude knew distress when he saw it. 

The prince was clearly suffering from some sort of hallucination, and although Claude wanted to step away, he’d found himself unable to. 

Dimitri had remained at his same spot for what felt like hours, to the point where Claude figured the prince may never leave, until Dimitri finally closed his eyes, and turned his back on the altar. 

Afraid that he’d be caught, Claude had remained where he was crouched, and waited until he could no longer see Dimitri’s figure across the bridge. Only then, had he felt safe to slip away, and back into his cold room.

Claude never brought up his late night watch of the prince, and had never considered doing so. Perhaps he had intruded on something private, and although it brought up feelings of guilt, Claude also knew that he had wanted to subtly help the prince out. So Claude had taken it upon himself to give Dimitri more attention, and had given the prince tea and tonics he knew would help with sleep deprivation. Although at first, Dimitri had been somewhat confused by the attention, he had never pushed the Riegan heir away, and the two had formed a fairly mutual - if somewhat shaky - friendship with each other.

But of course, that had all gone away once Edelgard had revealed herself, and started the war on Fodlan and the Church.

Claude was brought hurtling back to reality to the sound of his wyvern, Mahnaz, screeching, and the whistle of a fireball aimed straight for him. He felt the heat of the fireball blow past him, singing the edges of his cape, but thankfully Mahnaz had acted quickly to dodge the projectile. He briefly patted her head in appreciation of her quick actions, but composed himself with a shake to search the battleground below.

Fire burst forth from the sea of Empire red below him, but Claude grimaced at seeing Kingdom soldiers currently clashing against them. Soldiers swathed in blue armour and robes rushed at the crimson wave of mages, shouts and fire bursting forth from the clashes. He noticed a few Alliance golds in the mix, but he could see that they were being cut down by both the Empire and Kingdom. 

He could no longer see his former classmates in the sea of armour and cloth below him, but he could only hope that they all escaped relatively unscathed from the battle. Claude knew how strong his former classmates were, toughened by years of war, but he was also incredibly wary of how…  _ feral _ the former Prince was.

Even from high above, Claude could see the wide circle of death Dimitri had spread around himself. Areadbhar cut through bodies like paper, and the screams from those who fell under the spear rang loudly in the battlefield. It was hard to watch from afar. The once Crown Prince of Faerghus moved with a certain sway to him, that spoke volumes of how…  _ unhinged _ he had to be. Claude had been made aware of the rumours of Kingdom forces marching to Grondor, something that had given him a bit of hope - something he hadn't experienced in a long time - that perhaps the Alliance would finally have the firepower to properly fight back against the Empire. However, as the rumours rose, so did the hushed - and somewhat terrified - whispers of Dimitri, who was also alive, but not entirely  _ right _ . Claude tried not to think about how different the prince could be, given as the war had changed everyone in the years, and quietly assured himself that the rumours  _ had  _ to be exaggerated. Now though...

The prince’s figure swathed in black armour, a blue cape embroidered with the Kingdom’s sigil flowing behind him, stalked towards the sea of red before him. Areadbhar pulsed crimson, nearly hiding away the blood staining the bone like material, even as Dimitri swung wildly, and tore through a battalion with ease. Claude could not see any of the former Blue Lions with him, and could only assume that Dimitri had torn away from them in a blinded rage.

All at once, Claude was glad he had warned his army and especially his friends, to avoid confronting the prince at all costs, even if they were forced to retreat. 

This was not the man Claude had harboured feelings for in the past any more.

His sharp ears caught the sound of an arrow, and instinctually, he tightened his thighs around his wyvern, and he spun to avoid the shots taken at him. Claude felt his heightened pulse roar in his ears, and he gratefully patted his wyvern on the head once more. “Thank you, Mahnaz,” he whispered to her, and heard her rumble back. He didn’t have the time to properly thank her, and proposed to feed her well once this battle was over, but Claude brought himself back to the presence with a shake. There was no time to think about fledgling crushes, or to think about those who weren’t under his care. As much as it pained him, Claude had to look out for his own, and that meant trying to turn his back on the crazed prince, and hope that Dimitri got out alive.

Claude fired shots at what he could, aiming for ballistas, and other flyers within range, when he caught the movement of a blue cape out of the corner of his eye. 

Despite himself, he turned to look, and saw Dimitri being slowly overwhelmed. 

The prince was certainly strong, but considering the numbers of Empire soldiers, it was easy to see that Dimitri was overrun. His movements had turned somewhat sluggish, even though Areadbhar continued to cut through bodies, and blood had thoroughly coated his cloak and the furs lining his shoulders. Even as Claude watched the display, Dimitri fell to a knee when a knight had taken an axe to his shoulder, the furs there falling apart from the cloak, and his armour denting from the sheer force of the blow. Dimitri roared, and rose to his knees in a swiftness betraying his size, and cut the knight down. Claude clicked his tongue, and Mahnaz promptly cut through the air, giving Claude enough time to rain arrows down on the soldiers below. Shouts filled the air when the arrows powered by Failnaught shattered armour and dug into flesh, and although Claude had taken down quite a few, Dimitri still fought tongue and teeth against others.

More movement from behind the prince caught Claude’s eye, and he paled when he saw the familiar armour begetting assassins from the Empire closing in on Dimitri’s back. Claude quickly fired arrows at them, but he knew that assassins were swift and capable of avoiding most hits from afar. He cursed under his breath when his arrows landed uselessly on the ground below the assassin’s feet. 

They were approaching, and Dimitri, who was currently busy fighting knights and cavaliers, had not noticed them. Claude reached for a few more arrows, hoping that he could slow the assassins down enough for Dimitri to notice, but found himself gathering air. 

Light gleamed from polish blades, the assassins closer than ever to Dimitri’s unguarded back.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

He would  _ not _ allow Dimitri to die here.

Claude’s thighs tightened around his wyvern’s body, and he pressed his body low to allow her to dive quickly, like an arrow through the sky, towards the blue caped figure. He withdrew Failnaught, and despite knowing it would tire him, he dug deep into himself, bringing forth the power of Failnaught and his crest. An arrow of light burst forth from his fingers, and he released it, watching with narrowed eyes as one of the assassins fell with barely a sound, the arrow protruding from their neck. The other assassin barely flinched, sword catching the fires around them and gleaming silver. Claude knew he didn't have time to fire another arrow before the assassin struck. 

_ Dimitri cannot die. _

Claude would later kick himself for acting so foolishly, but he also knew that he  _ needed _ to act fast, and right now, he was running on pure instinct and adrenaline. 

He tightened his grip on the reins, and urged his wyvern faster with a click of his tongue, before he dove from the saddle. He rolled, his knees aching from the sudden fall, but he pushed himself to rush forward to the two figures before him. Dimitri, who had seemed to finally notice the movement from behind, whirled around with teeth bared and Areadbhar flashing, just before Claude dove in front of the assassin’s blade.

The blade meant for Dimitri, drove itself into Claude’s side like a knife through butter.

Blood bubbled up in his throat, choking him when the sword was pulled carelessly from his side. A burst of adrenaline had Claude rolling to the side despite the agony burning from his wound, narrowly avoiding another blade swipe from the assassin. Stars burst in his vision, threatening to make him pass out, but he grit his teeth against the pain from the injury, even while blood dripped down his chin and his fingers slipped on slick grass. He knew that if he didn’t retaliate - didn’t fight back - that he  _ would _ die here.

Failnaught vibrated in his hands, red pulsing through the Crest stone and bone like material of the bow, as he quickly nocked back another arrow of light, and shot it directly into the assassin’s eye. Blood splattered across Claude’s face from the assassin’s eye socket, but he barely blinked. He watched numbly as the body fell with a thud, sword clattering away from limp fingers. Claude let out a breath he had been holding, and slowly lowered his weapon.

A wince flashed across his face and a hiss of pain escaped him. The wound at his side burned when he pressed a hand to stem the flow of blood. Vaguely, he wondered if the burning meant that the sword had been coated in poison, but Claude could only try to focus on not losing consciousness, even while his eyes began to lose focus, and the ground blurred. A bitter chuckle escaped him, despite the circumstances.

" _ Claude! _ "

Claude jolted at the call of his name, and turned much too quickly to look towards the source of the voice. His vision swooped, and he found himself falling to the ground before being able to stop himself. Hands grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping him from face planting on the dirt. Dizziness seized him, but he tried to blink past the black spots in his vision to see who his saviour was. A familiar blue eye, glimmering like the sapphires Claude had seen on his father’s fingers as a child, wavered in front of him, and despite the pain, he smiled weakly up at the prince.

"Hey, your Princeliness..." Claude wheezed. His hand, shaky and cold, lifted up to Dimitri's jawline, and gently pressed there. Blood on the prince’s jawline smeared across his fingers, but Claude found himself unable to care about the stains and stench. "Long time… no see…" 

"Claude…" There was a rawness in Dimitri's voice. It felt like being plunged into ice water at hearing how  _ broken _ Dimitri sounded; it felt  _ wrong _ . " _ Claude… _ "

Claude choked out a laugh, tasting more blood on his tongue. "Don't… wear it out…" He took a moment to swallow the copper in his mouth, and looked straight into Dimitri's eye. "I'm glad you're… here… and I'm sorry I couldn't… couldn't find you before… if I'd known you'd been alive…" 

"Stop," Dimitri demanded. Before Claude could even blink, he was being swept into Dimitri's arms, his head lolling onto the fur that lay across the prince's shoulder. It was oddly comforting, and Claude’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but he forced himself to open them again; something told him if he fell asleep now, he might not wake up again. Something akin to what Claude had seen on the battlefield lit behind Dimitri's eye, and the blonde haired man growled, "I will not allow you to die."

Blood splattered down Claude's already drenched coat front, laughter rumbling deep in his chest. He could see the darkness gathering in the corners of his eyes, and his limbs felt heavy and numb, as though they didn't belong to him. Claude's eyes closed again, despite trying to fight against the mire trying to swallow him up. 

"I'm sorry…" Claude repeated faintly. "Dimitri… I'm sorry…"

He sunk into the blackness, the sound of Dimitri's voice howling his name, chasing him into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so rusty with writing, omg. I had most of this written out, but figuring out interactions, dialogue and how to make it all flow naturally was so much harder than I remember it being. I also apologize for the length... Hilda was just too much fun to write, and it got away from me.
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments, and kudos! I didn’t expect for you guys to like it so much, considering it took me two days to gather the courage to finally post the first chapter. It’s a relief to know it’s enjoyable! I’m more of an artist than a writer, so sometimes getting into the groove is a bit hard…

The very last thing Hilda had expected to see during the bloodbath on Grondor Field, was Dimitri, the supposed dead Prince of Faerghus, running towards their Alliance battalions with a still Claude in his arms. And certainly not right after the Empire had declared a retreat. The Alliance had won the battle at Grondor, but it was not without casualties. 

Before the battle, Claude had mentioned to them that there had been rumours of the Kingdom gathering forces to march to Grondor, and to be careful if they were forced to engage them. Whispers of the once dead Prince being among the Kingdom forces had been quiet - almost  _ fearful _ \- and Hilda hadn’t been sure if she wanted to believe them or not. All the Golden Deer had harbored hope that the Kingdom would join forces with them, but once they had heard Dimitri roar to kill everyone, they knew it was impossible. The battle had been a mess, and Hilda had cut down so many forces, she had lost count long ago. The thing that made her heart wrench, was not remembering if she had cut down Empire or Kingdom soldiers; and she sorely hoped she hadn’t cut down one of the Blue Lions in the fray without realizing. 

In the end, however, they had come out victorious, and although Hilda had lost sight of their esteemed Leader during the cacophony of fighting, she trusted Claude to come out from it alive, and relatively unscathed.

But now Dimitri was here, his singular eye wild with panic, and blood covering his arms from the still body gathered in his arms.

“Claude!” Hilda rushed forward to the prince, her hands gently pulling Claude’s limp head from Dimitri’s shoulder. He was pale, his once healthy brown skin almost white from blood loss, and his chest barely moved. She could feel how cold his cheeks were becoming, and  _ that _ bore a bore of panic in her chest. Hilda quickly beckoned for a healer, ignoring the silent stare from Dimitri in the meantime. Alarm for their bleeding leader stirred the rest of the Alliance troops to gather around the two to try to help, but they hadn’t expected Dimitri to growl at them, animal like, and low in his throat at them. Immediately, the soldiers tensed, and Hilda saw some of them hold their weapons tighter, or point them at the Prince; something that did  _ not _ help the situation at hand. 

Hilda huffed a breath, and although she was wary of how Dimitri was acting - a significant contrast from how he had been at the Academy five years ago - she also got the sense he wasn’t acting aggressively on purpose. 

Gently, while making her intent clear to him, Hilda reached a hand out and placed it on Dimitri’s other shoulder not occupied by Claude’s head. Dimitri started, and turned to stare at her as Hilda offered a small - if somewhat strained - smile in return.

“Dimitri, I know you’re worried for him, but please… We need to help Claude. We have healers who can help.”

The prince seemed almost confused, as though he didn't realize it was Hilda speaking to him. His eye not hidden under an eyepatch, was comically wide; if it wasn't for the dark shadows under it, Hilda would almost say he looked like a lost child at that moment. "Claude…" he whispered fervently, his voice rough and broken. 

Her heart cracked at the sound of it. 

"Yes, Claude needs help," she spoke slowly. "Marianne will look at him, and help him. But we  _ need _ you to let him go."

At the mention of letting Claude go from his arms, Dimitri's eye turned icy. However, when he glanced down at Claude's still figure, and seeing how pale the Duke was, stirred something more in Dimitri. He almost deflated, impossibly so, and nodded. Hilda breathed a soft sigh of relief, and beckoned Raphael over, who trotted forward with a wary look on his face. When the prince made no move to be aggressive, Rapahel reached out and carefully took Claude into his own arms. No sound escaped the Duke as he was transferred over, and when Raphael hurried back to the tents they had set up with healers and injured, everyone seemed spurred into action once more.

Hilda watched Dimitri for a moment, unsure if she should leave him be, or stay with him. He still had his arms held out as though he were holding Claude's body, and his eyes had emptied of whatever emotion he had been feeling prior. She finally decided on simply saying, "he'll be okay. You can wait for an update on his condition if you'd like."

The Prince didn't answer, his gaze held towards the tent where Claude had disappeared into. Hilda took the moment to really study Dimitri, to really determine if he would be safe to keep around their encampment in the meantime. 

The war had been rough on everyone, with a majority of people Hilda knew marred by scars or haunted by the horrors they'd seen. It seemed as though Dimitri hadn't been an exception to this. His golden hair, once carefully combed and kept clean, now hung lank, tangled and dirty around his face, the split ends now reaching just past his shoulders. The dark eyepatch on his right eye barely hid the hint of a scar underneath, and his uncovered eye appeared haunted, listless and empty. Dimitri had been tall during their Academy days, but he had certainly gone through a growth spurt, his shoulders broader than before, his body filled out by what had to be muscles. Hilda had no idea what horrors Dimitri may have witnessed in the four years he'd been assumed dead, but given by his appearance and actions, it seemed as though it was impossible to think of him as the boy prince from the Academy.

"... I would… like to stay," Dimitri finally responded, jolting Hilda out of her observations. She took a moment to shake herself back to the present, and nodded with a shaky smile. Her hand on Dimitri's arm gently guided him towards the tent, his shoulders hunched, and his eye downcast. Dimitri was silent during their stroll to the healer's tents. He really did seem like a lost child, and it made Hilda wonder if seeing Claude in that state had really affected him; it was a stark contrast from how he had been mere moments ago.

She led him carefully to the tent, ignoring how the soldier stationed at the entrance glanced warily at the tall prince. Inside the tent, many of the cots they'd brought for the battle were occupied by the injured, all being tended to by Marianne, or the other healers that had volunteered to come with their army. It was a flurry of movement, the air inside the tent rife with a state of urgency to tend to those with life threatening wounds. Further inside, Hilda noted that Marianne and two other healers were gathered around a cot, with a familiar coat hanging off the side; she tried to ignore the red staining it. Dimitri's eye immediately went to watch the healers moving about Claude's still body, and it looked as though he might try to get closer, but Hilda tightened her grip on his arm minutely to get his attention.

"We should let them work," she said quietly when Dimitri turned to look at her, just the hint of betrayal in his blue eye visible "Come on, you look like you have some wounds that can be looked at."

"... I am fine," Dimitri answered. His jaw tightened somewhat, and she noticed his shoulders tense. "Do not worry about me."

Hilda frowned, and went to protest against his terse words, but found herself unable to. Claude's warning about the Prince being unstable echoed in her head, and she was suddenly afraid that if she said the wrong thing, Dimitri would snap. Instead, she bit back her words of protest, and beamed at him to the best of her abilities. 

"Alright. But we still need to wait until the healers are done helping him, okay?"

Dimitri let out a hard exhale, but nodded, much to Hilda's relief; at least she wouldn't need to physically drag him out. The two made their way into a corner near the entrance, where Hilda silently waved a few unoccupied healers' worried looks away. Dimitri immediately sat himself on the ground, hunching like a small mountain within his furs and cloak. She watched as his eye scanned the area, and saw the uneasy glances the other occupants of the tent sent his way. She hastily threw apologetic smiles at them, but eventually the chaos of the makeshift infirmary took precedence, and the two were ignored in the meantime.

Hilda watched the healers surrounding Claude carefully cut the bloodied shirt off his body, exposing his torso and the wound. It looked awful from her distance. She continued to watch as the wound was carefully assessed, before Marianne, who had been leading the others in their mission to help the Alliance leader, gave orders. A needle and thread was procured, while a glow of white flowed over the wound, closing the worst of it before Marianne took over stitching it closed. Hilda couldn't help her grimace at watching the needle pull through skin, and at the blood that still leaked out from the mostly closed wound.

At her side, Dimitri was silent, but when he saw the needle being used, he murmured something, his voice tight with emotion. It sounded like a fervent apology, and then an affirmation to someone that Hilda had never heard of before.

"What?" Hilda turned to fix him with a confused look. He didn't immediately react to her question, something that made her feel suddenly uncomfortable. His gaze that had been watching Claude intently only just a moment ago, appeared glazed, as though he were looking past the commotion. His eye flicked towards the left, at an empty part of the tent, but he let out a shuddering breath, and finally looked up at Hilda again. 

"I apologize…" he muttered. "I was simpy…” 

Dimitri's voice trailed off, his unfinished sentence leaving Hilda feeling as though ice water had been poured over her shoulders and spine. She knew that the Prince had changed, had been  _ warned _ by Claude, but it was one thing to be told, than to witness it. Was he perhaps hearing voices? Maybe she'd ask Marianne later about it. Instead, they continued their silent vigil in the corner of the tent. 

Marianne wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, her hands covered in blood. But she didn't look as grim as Hilda expected, which was promising. The wound had been stitched up, but the skin still looked raw, angry and red against his tan skin. Claude had yet to stir even while the needle pierced his skin, nor while Marianne wound bandages across his stomach. Once that was complete, she gave a few more orders, and the bloody clothing was swept away to be disposed of, and the other healers left to tend to other patients. Marianne looked over to the two in the corner, and beckoned them over with a tired smile. Hilda placed a hand on Dimitri's elbow, startling him out of whatever reverie he'd been in. His eye finally cleared of whatever had been clouding them, like a clear blue sky after a storm. 

"Come on," Hilda insisted, her voice bright despite feeling incredibly drained by the day’s battle. "Marianne's finished patching him up. You wanna see him, right?" 

"Yes," Dimitri uttered so quickly, it made her head spin. 

When they made it to the bed, Dimitri immediately hovered over Claude's prone body. He didn't dare touch the fallen Duke, instead hovering over him like a lion protecting its cubs from danger. It was a rather funny analogy to think of, Hilda chuckled silently to herself.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" Hilda asked as nonchalantly as she could.

Marianne's brow furrowed. "He’ll be fine, but will need plenty of rest to let his body replenish the blood he lost." A weak smile spread her lips, and she looked up at the Prince. "You did a good job at getting him here quickly. Thank you, Your Highness."

Dimitri jumped at being addressed. His eye was comically wide for a moment, and Hilda had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, even if it seemed highly inappropriate. He nodded slowly, still wide eyed. 

"That's good to hear," Hilda strode in, pulling the attention off Dimitri. If there was one thing Hilda could do for the Prince, it was to make sure he wouldn't be under the spotlight for long. Something told her that he wasn't used to it any longer after the years he'd spent hiding from the Empire. She gently pushed back the curls of dark hair from Claude's forehead, pleased that a little bit of colour had returned to his face. "We'll just need to be sure he doesn't try to jump back onto his wyvern as soon as he wakes up."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Marianne hid a tired smile behind her hand. "I’ll make sure he doesn’t."

Hilda smiled back at the soft spoken healer, and then turned back to Dimitri, her hands on her hips to study him. Now came the difficult part... Just what in the world were they going to do with the exiled prince? Her eyes watched Dimitri hovering like a large black shadow over by Claude's bedside. The prince made no move to touch their fallen leader, but Hilda could see the intensity in Dimitri's eye, and how tightly coiled his shoulders were. Although his expression had not changed much from their time spent in a corner waiting, Hilda could see the fatigue seeping into his body. His eye appeared to struggle to keep open, but it is only through sheer stubbornness that he kept standing.

Hilda wondered if his army had any idea where their prince might be. Though she had the feeling that Dimitri had probably separated from them at some point during the battle. She could only imagine them wildly looking for their prince, and Hilda wasn't sure how the Kingdom would take to knowing the Alliance had Dimitri under their care at the moment.

"Hey, Marianne?" 

"Yes?"

"Have we had any contact with the Kingdom army?" 

Marianne's brow furrowed with worry, and she shook her head. "I don't believe so…"

Hilda sighed, and brushed a strand of pink hair over her shoulder. "That's what I was afraid of… Where's Leonie?"

"She might be returning now…"

"Okay… Well, I think we're going to need her to go and send a message to the Kingdom," Hilda mused. Although she was not a leader, and she was too tired to think properly, they needed to inform the Kingdom of Dimitri's whereabouts; and fast. "Do you mind watching Dimitri while I find her?"

At this notion, Marianne's eyes widened. She fidgeted with her stained dress for a moment, before she nodded. Her brown eyes warily watched the silent prince from afar. "Of… course."

"Don't worry. If anything happens, scream okay?" Hilda patted Marianne on the shoulder reassuringly. She even threw in a smile for good measure, but even she could tell it was somewhat strained.

She took one last look at the prince, and quickly left the tent in search of their orange haired classmate. Thankfully, she was easy to spot, and Hilda found her in record time. Once she explained the situation to Leonie, she assured Hilda that the message would be delivered with no issues. 

"I'm sorry for making you work again so soon after a battle," Hilda sighed.

Leonie waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it! Trust me. I'll be back faster than you think."

Hilda watched Leonie mount her sable coloured horse, and ride towards where they assumed the Kingdom forces were. There was the assumption that they had all taken the same locations as during the battle of the Eagle and Lion five years ago, so Hilda could only hope that Leonie found them there. She stretched, wincing when her sore muscles twinged in protest. Her shoulders ached from swinging Freikugel so much during the battle, and the grime and blood that coated her clothing and hair was beginning to feel uncomfortable. A warm bath sounded amazing right about now, but Hilda had no time to rest just yet.

_ Claude, you  _ definitely _ owe me for making me run around like this right after a battle,  _ she thought to herself while taking off to find Lorenz; although, her heart wasn't really in it. Concern for Claude prevented her from being truly upset at having to search for her former classmates in their encampment. She thanked the Goddess that Lorenz was so easy to spot amongst the Alliance golds, his purple armour and hair glinting in the sunlight. 

"Lorenz!" 

He turned to look at her, perplexed. Dirt and blood had stained his face, and hair, and his armour had been dented in some places, but thankfully, he looked relatively unharmed. 

"Hilda? What's the matter?"

"Congratulations!" Hilda cheered, loud enough to get the attention of the other soldiers around, all of whom looked exceptionally astonished by her shout. Despite how inappropriate it felt to be so cheery, she didn't want to let her own worry over Claude dampen their victory; and they truly needed it during these times. "You're in charge for a while!"

"Excuse me?" Lorenz spluttered. 

"Claude was injured during the battle, and is currently recovering.  _ So _ , because you were next in line as leader of the Alliance, I’m officially promoting you on Claude’s behalf!"

The purple haired noble frowned. "Claude was injured? Was it serious?”

“Kind of. Marianne got him all patched up, but he’s going to need a while to recover,” Hilda explained mildly. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to go on further about what had happened with Dimitri. “In the meantime, we need you to be our auspicious leader. Claude would be proud.”

Lorenz looked conflicted for a moment. He looked ready to smirk and scoff that he had always been fit for the job, but on the other hand, he looked ready to run off and check to see if Claude was as fine as Hilda said. Although the two had butt heads many times while studying at the Officer’s Academy, and even now during their war meetings, Lorenz had come to (begrudgingly) respect Claude. He didn’t like to admit it publicly, but Hilda and the other Golden Deer knew it. Lorenz seemed to finally wrestle what doubt he had, and nodded at Hilda, back straight as an arrow, eyes steely. 

“Of course. I won’t let anyone down.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hilda cheered once more. "I'm sure you'll do us all proud!"

He gave her a withering stare, but Hilda chose to ignore it. With one last cheery pat on the arm, she let him know what Claude had planned for after the battle, and took her leave. Hilda  _ really  _ wanted to wash the grime off, but decided that perhaps relieving Marianne of babysitting duty would be much better.

When she walked into the tent, it was to the two of them in the exact same spot where she left them. Dimitri still hovered silently, watching Claude intensely, and Marianne looked uncomfortable, her hands now free of the blood, but twisting her blue skirts between her fingers. 

"Sorry for taking so long!" Hilda called out, trying not to startle the two, even though Marianne still jumped. "I had to track down Lorenz after sending Leonie to find the Kingdom troops."

At the mention of the Kingdom, Dimitri seemed to stir, his eye flickering up to watch Hilda approach the bed. He said nothing however, but instead looked away from her and continued to watch Claude sleep. A sigh threatened to escape her, but Hilda kept the smile on her face, and simply pressed a hand to Dimitri's arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

"So, I think we might need to say goodbye soon - just for a little bit," Hilda said.

Dimitri stiffened under her hand. "I was under the impression I would be able to stay here."

Hilda glanced at Marianne from the corner of her eye, and saw the healer's mouth thin into a line. "Well… I'm pretty sure your army is going wild looking for you."

"It does not matter what they want," Dimitri growled. A light had flared in his eye. "What is important, is that I remain here. With Claude."

This was going to be more difficult than they thought.

The two women exchanged looks again, and Marianne - Goddess bless her - stepped forward. "Your Highness-"

"Do not call me that."

"I'm sorry," Marianne stuttered. Although her voice was a bit shaky, her newfound confidence had her able to continue. "I understand you're worried about Claude… but the Kingdom needs their leader. You are more than welcome to return for updates, none of us will stop you."

Dimitri was silent for a moment, blue eye stormy with emotion. "I cannot leave his side. He took a  _ sword _ for me." His voice wavered only slightly, but the fire in his eye remained. "I will not allow him to die here."

"He won't," Marianne said firmly. Determination made her brown eyes gleam. "I assure you, Claude will not die under my watch."

Dimitri seemed to wrestle with himself a moment. He stared Marianne down, and despite being at least a foot taller than her, the healer remained steadfast. Finally, after another beat of tension, Dimitri looked away from her, and then turned on his foot in a whirl of blue and furs. He stalked past Marianne and Hilda, both women surprised by his sudden retreat, but unable to stop him. 

Before he exited the tent, he muttered loud enough for them to hear, “I hope for all of our sakes, that you are telling the truth.” He left them with that intimidating threat, before barreling out of the tent, shocking the guard stationed there. Dimitri ignored the astonished shout of his title, and instead, took a seat on the ground next to the tent’s flap. He was as imposing as a large mountain, the gleam of Areadbhar against his shoulder enough to cause the guard to back away somewhat. The stunned look he sent both women’s way had Hilda shrugging, and Marianne’s hands tightening at her chest.

Hilda turned to Marianne, not really sure on how to react, but she simply blurted out, “Well… that was easy?”

⍣⍣⍣

It had been four days since Claude had been injured, and he had remained unconscious the entire time. He hadn’t stirred once during their trip back to Garreg Mach, not even when the carriage the army had procured to carry him in would jostle on uneven ground. He was silent, still as a statue, and seeing him so quiet had rattled Hilda and the rest of the Golden Deer’s nerves. They were accustomed to Claude filling in the silence with his teasing, or rambling, and to look over and see him sound asleep had been rather disconcerting. It was only through seeing for herself that his chest still moved, that Hilda was able to remain as calm as she currently was.

Marianne had reassured Hilda and the others that this was normal after such a life threatening injury. His body was healing well, but also needed time to rest and replenish the blood he had lost. There had been worries about the assassin’s blade being coated in poison, but luck seemed to be on his side, and he showed no signs of such a thing. Whenever Hilda watched Marianne change the bandages across his torso, she couldn’t help but nearly gag at the sight of the raw wound. The blade that’d wounded him had cut deep, nearly straight through him, and although Marianne and the other healers had used Faith magic on it to close the wound and fix the damaged organs, it hadn’t been enough, and traditional stitching had to be used to fully close it. There would be a nasty scar there after.

And although Hilda knew that Claude needed the rest, this was getting ridiculous. Leading a fractured nation left little time for Claude to truly allow himself to relax, to take time for himself. Whenever Hilda had stumbled on him asleep at his desk, she had always shaken him awake to try and get him into bed, but Claude would insist he was only resting his eyes for a moment, and that he was fine; that he just needed to finish one last thing before going to bed.

She saw the weariness in his eyes, the slump in his shoulders when he thought no one was looking, and had seen how tight with worry his face was as he poured over the maps and battleplans. Claude had certainly run himself ragged in the months leading up to Grondor, and it was rather ironic that he was only resting now because he had almost died from a serious injury. 

It was thanks to his careful planning, that the Alliance and the Kingdom had won the battle at Grondor, and with it came a calm they hadn't known for quite some time. The lull in battles had allowed for the armies to rest, and for the injured to recover without the worry of being thrown into combat again so quickly. 

On their course back to Garreg Mach, Hilda had watched the Kingdom forces as they slowly integrated themselves with the Alliance soldiers. The rest of the Blue Lions had also done well to blend in with the Golden Deer, and it wasn’t out of place to see the two groups mingling together on their march back. Somehow, the friendships slowly being formed between the two former classes, had sparked a sort of camaraderie amongst the soldiers as well, and it had led to a rather lively march to Garreg Mach. The only one who seemed to put a damper on things, was the crown prince himself.

Hilda looked towards their backline, spotting the black and blue clad figure in the distance. Dimitri loomed behind the last of their soldiers, his eyes haunted and Areadbhar resting against his shoulder, the Hero’s relic just as imposing with or without blood staining it. He was silent, refusing to speak to anyone who wasn’t Hilda, Marianne, or his childhood friends. Anyone who tried to approach him would give up when he remained reticent in their presence. Hilda would do her best to talk to Dimitri, but it would usually remain around the subject of how Claude was recovering, or if Claude was alright, or if Claude would require extra assistance once he was awake, or… Well, usually their talks revolved around Claude, and although Hilda thought it was kind of cute that the prince was concerned for the leader of the Alliance, it also made her wonder what made Dimitri so one minded. Maybe if she was braver, she’d ask him outright if he had a crush on the duke, but Hilda wasn’t, so she would answer Dimitri’s questions (more like demands) than anything else. It was easy to see just how on edge the prince was, and anytime the armies would stop to rest for the night, he would haunt around the edges of their camp.

Their arrival at Garreg Mach couldn’t come soon enough, and Hilda nearly cried when she saw the steeples of the monastery in the distance.

Claude was quickly moved to the infirmary where Manuela and Marianne could both keep watch over him through his recovery. Both healers assured the Golden Deer that they were allowed to visit him, as long as no one else was bothered by their presence. 

But as much as they wanted to check on Claude, Hilda and her friends ended up being far busier than usual. Hilda herself was only able to check in on Claude once in the two days they were back. While their victory was assured at Grondor Field, there was still a war to be won. Which meant a lot of time being spent meeting to discuss battleplans, consider supplies, and talking with generals about what to do next.

“I don't know how he does it,” Lorenz finally confessed one day after an especially grueling war council meeting. There had been arguments all around, with many of their generals doubting Lorenz’s decisions and his plans, and although Lorenz tried his best to be as dependable as Claude usually was, it was obvious that he didn’t quite make the cut. Lorenz was far too noble to overstep his boundaries, and his flowery speech wasn’t the best at cutting through the curt words uttered by the generals. Claude had always been good at that, his voice even, but authoritative enough to leave no room for real arguments; Goddess, she missed it. At times, Hilda had been forced to step in to help quell the fires beginning to pop up after Lorenz had said his piece. Even now as they stepped out from the meeting room, she could see the weariness in his face and shoulders. It made her pity him enough to pat his arm. “He makes it look so  _ easy _ .”

“That’s Claude for you,” she sighed. “You did fine though. Old men are just stubborn.” 

Lorenz laughed, a mere breath of a snort, but nodded idly. “Let us hope that their stubbornness won’t be our undoing during this war. Has there been any news of Claude’s condition?”

“Marianne would let us know right away,” Hilda assured. The two began to make their way to the infirmary anyway, despite knowing that visiting an unconscious man was fairly useless; but seeing Claude would calm both their nerves. “I bet Claude is just using this as an excuse to be lazy though. Can you  _ believe _ it’s been four days since he’s woken up?”

"His injury was serious enough to almost kill him," Lorenz said far too seriously, as though Hilda didn't know that already. She was also rather impressed he didn’t rise to the opportunity to call her out on her own laziness. "It would be unsurprising for him to rest for a week."

“Ugh, seriously? But it’s so  _ boring _ without him around,” Hilda whined. “And you’re not as fun.”

Lorenz chose to not give her the satisfaction of an answer. 

Instead, he huffed, and stepped through the door to the infirmary with his nose in the air, while Hilda followed him with a grin on her face. Marianne was already in the room with Claude, having already redressed the bandages around his torso, the soiled ones on a table to be disposed of. 

In the corner nearby, Dimitri sat, his hair and armour still as grimy as it had been four days prior. No one had been able to convince him to wash the blood off, nor to move from his post; not even his friends. While he did nothing more than watch Claude sleep, it was rather unnerving to drop by, and see the prince there, silent and imposing. So Hilda and Marianne had taken to dropping Dimitri food every once in a while, which he mostly ignored; but they at least made the attempt. 

At the moment, his blue eye watched both Lorenz and Hilda walk into the infirmary, but he made no move to stand or change position. Hilda threw a hand out in greeting to the prince, and once he deemed them fit to be there, he turned his sight away, and watched Claude once more.

“How’s our great leader doing?” Hilda asked while she sat herself on one of the empty beds nearby, and tried to ignore the mountain of a man in the corner. Lorenz glanced over once in a while at Dimitri, but he stood near Hilda, his arms crossed.

Marianne smiled, using a basin of water nearby to wash her hands. She had gotten terribly accustomed to Dimitri’s presence during the last few days. “He’s doing much better. The wound is healing nicely, but might be a bit sore for a while. If we’re lucky, he’ll wake up soon.”

“That’s a relief,” Hilda sighed.

Lorenz also let out an exhale, and he nodded. “That is promising.” 

"Although… I think he may have to sit out the next few battles. We can't let his stitches tear open with strenuous activity," Marianne finished.

"Oh, he won't be happy about that," Marianne whistled. 

Hilda opened her mouth to say something, when a groan interrupted her. Everyone's eyes widened, and they all spun around to the bed where Claude laid on. Even Dimitri looked surprised, although he hadn't yet moved from his position.

" Claude ?"

His brow furrowed, and Hilda saw a flash of green. Marianne immediately draped a hand on his chest, when he shifted, and cried out in pain. His back threatened to arch, but the blue haired healer was - surprisingly - stronger than she let on, and was able to keep him from hurting himself further.

Claude's jaw tightened, but he finally opened his eyes. He looked around, confused, the golden green of his eyes muddled with lethargy. When he finally focused on Hilda (perhaps her bright pink hair helped), he spoke, voice rough with disuse. 

"Hil… da?"

Hilda threw her arms in the air, cheering loudly.

"The prodigal son awakens!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have Claude and Dimitri finally talking under normal-ish circumstances.

**Author's Note:**

> Mahnaz, the name I chose for Claude’s wyvern, means ‘glory/beauty of the moon’ if anyone was wondering! Thanks so much for reading, I hope to get the next chapter out soon! I say this story won’t be long, but honestly, I tend to write on the fly, and knowing how I am… it could change lmao.
> 
> I edited this to the best of my abilities, but I'm sure there might be spelling and grammar mistakes; apologies for that.


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